


A Tale or Two

by fuzipenguin



Series: Of Mechs and Dogs [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hope, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet, a veterinary medic in training, meets Red and Yellow, two fighting beast drones who just might be more than meets the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

                “Here we are.”

                Ratchet followed his guide to a nondescript door, waiting with barely concealed impatience as the other mech fumbled on his chain for the correct key. Finding it, he inserted it into the cage lock and turned it, but did not open the door. Instead, he pulled a long, thick rod spitting with energy from subspace and hefting it, opened the door a crack, peering into the interior of the room.

                “These two… they’re a little feral,” CopOut said, gradually pushing the door open wider. Ratchet gave the mech’s back a look of pure disgust.

                The vet medic hated this part of his residency. The majority of the “sporting” arenas were mere covers for underground fighting rings where instead of letting the dogs fight to first blood, it was a fight to the death. Ratchet considered the first to be a cruel practice; the second made something deep inside him twist and turn with pure hatred.

                “Oh, get on with it,” Ratchet said, shouldering past CopOut, only to stop and stare at the mound of metal in the corner. Two dog mechs, one red, the other yellow, were curled up together so tightly he could barely discern where one started and the other ended. The red one lifted his head from the hip of the yellow and a low warning growl permeated the room.

                “Careful, doc,” CopOut warned behind him. “These are TopNotch’s best. They didn’t get that way by being nice to strangers.”

                Ratchet ignored the mech behind him, bright optics immediately identifying injuries and triaging them. The dogs’ dull finishes were covered with gouges and tears, but the largest and most dangerous was the gash across the yellow one’s abdomen. Every time he vented out, Ratchet could see wires and the edge of a fuel pump peeking through the laceration.

                “All right now,” Ratchet said in a soothing tone, lowering his kit to the side and crouching down. “What did you two get into? Now, now, none of that,” he said, eyeing the red one’s slow rise to his feet. The dog slowly moved his front limbs so that he was protectively straddling his companion’s side. The yellow one wearily raised his head enough to glance at Ratchet and then it dropped back down to his paws. His optics were open and alert, however, and Ratchet knew not to dismiss him.

                Ratchet took a few shuffling steps forward, and the red one crouched down, lipplates lifting to show sharp, serrated teeth. The growl became louder.

                “What are their names?” Ratchet asked, never taking his eyes off his patients.

                Ratchet could feel the shrug from behind him. “Dunno what their real names are. Just call them Red and Yellow. Yellow is vicious through and through, but Red’s usually pretty decent. Except when one’s hurt; then they get all protective over the other. Here, I’ll get ‘em for you.”

                Before Ratchet could say or do anything, Red jolted and let out an audio-piercing screech. A collar that Ratchet hadn’t noticed until now glowed blue and spit sparks, some landing on the dog’s paint job and singing it. Whipping around, Ratchet saw a smirk of glee on CopOut’s faceplates. Ratchet reached down and grabbed a wrench from his kit, turning back and throwing it with surprising accuracy at the other mech’s head. The remote for the collar fell from CopOut’s hand as the mech fell to one knee, and the red dog’s screams faded away.

                Ratchet stormed over and kicked the remote to the side, barely refraining from doing the same to CopOut. “Get out,” Ratchet hissed, looming over CopOut as he cradled a dent in his helm. “Don’t you ever use such a pit-slagged piece of scrap metal in my presence again!”

                Surprise turned to anger, and CopOut stood and strode angrily to the door. “Fine! Get torn to shreds for all I care!” he spat and slammed the door behind him. The echoes of his footsteps rang out in the hallway for a few moments before diminishing into the distance.

                Still venting quickly in fury, Ratchet turned back around to see Red carefully pushing himself up from his side. The beast’s intakes were working overtime and small shudders overcame his frame as his body attempted to dispel the foreign charge. Yellow began belly crawling over to his companion, soft snuffling whines showing his concern.

                “Hey, hey, none of that!” Ratchet protested and strode forward to place a restraining hand on the point of Yellow’s shoulder. Then he leaped back away from the snap of teeth that nearly took his hand off.

                Ratchet huffed again. “Will you tell your Primus forsaken friend here that I’m just trying to help?” he asked, turning to Red.

                Red’s head tilted up, the dog's optics meeting his. Ratchet froze in place at the strength of the glare. Pain, hatred, despair, worry, all swirled together into a slitted ice blue gaze that seemed to bore into him. Ratchet’s optics blinked, taking in the fine facial features of one dog than the other, their similar if not identical frames.

                “You’re siblings,” Ratchet breathed, glancing back from one to the other, seeing more and more similarities. “Pit, you could even be twins.”

                Red’s subsonic growl trickled to a stop, and his head tilted to the side. Some of the hatred on his faceplates bled away to be replaced by a wary curiosity.

                “Twins,” Ratchet said to himself. “They’re fighting Twins. The slag eating…” Ratchet continued to spit curses into the air until he wore himself out. He wiped a weary hand over his faceplates when his tirade spiraled down into a close.

                “All right, I’ll go kick some aft later. But for now, I really need to look at that,” Ratchet said, pointing a careful finger at Yellow’s abdominal laceration. He leaned forward again and just barely avoided getting his head taken off by a swipe of a paw. Yellow ended up on his side at the action, an involuntary yelp emerging from him. He remained there, all four limbs pulled in tight to his body in preparation of kicking with blade tipped feet. Panicked, pain-filled optics flitted around the room, landing repeatedly on the medic.

                “You idiot. I’m gonna have to sedate you, aren’t I?” Red whined at the words, and Ratchet looked up in surprise. Fighting beasts were not much more intelligent than drones. Their programs consisted of killing techniques and not much else. It was only the companion pets that received the more comprehensive intelligence programs. But no, Red was merely nosing at his brother in concern.

                Ratchet reached for his bag, groping around until he found the sedative he was looking for. He still didn’t remove his optics from the pair in front of him. Even though Red seemed more comfortable in his presence, he still didn’t trust either of them one bit.

                Affixing the sedative in his dart gun, he eyed the yellow frame, determining the best spot to aim for.

\--

                _I think you should let him help._ A red nose nudged at Sunstreaker’s audio flap, and he growled, snapping at his brother before letting his gaze fall back warily on the red and white mech crouching a few feet away.

                _He’ll offline me. Take me away._

                Sideswipe stared down at his brother with worry. He didn’t like seeing his twin’s inner bits amidst the growing puddle of energon. And Sunstreaker was in pain. Pain that he couldn’t completely block from the bond because of exhaustion. An unconscious whine escaped Sideswipe.

                _No, I don’t think he will. Please, Sunny. Please just let him look at you. I’ll be right here._

                Sunstreaker snarled wordlessly, paw pushing at his twin while at the same time his half of the bond wordlessly screamed, **don’t leave me**!

                The medic hefted a gun of some sort, and Sunstreaker went wild, thrashing, instinctively trying to get to his feet in preparation for a fight.

                _No! You’re making things worse! Stop it! Sunny, stop!_ Sideswipe leapt onto his brother, pinning him as best as he could. Even injured, Sunstreaker was strong, and Sideswipe didn’t know how long he could hold him down for. Sideswipe looked up at the medic, optics pleading for the other mech to do something.

**_\--_ **

                Ratchet reared back in surprise at the short scuffle that had broken out. The two dogs had been so entwined when he had first entered that he hadn’t expected them to fight each other. But then he realized that Yellow had tried to get up, likely to attack Ratchet, and Red had leapt on top of his brother to try and prevent further injury.

                Red’s head lifted, and he stared directly at Ratchet. He barked, several short, deep sounds as if to say to Ratchet, _get on with it already_.  Seeing an opening, the vet fired.

                Ratchet’s aim was true, and the dart landed inn Yellow’s upper thigh, immediately pumping sedatives into the fuel line that supplied the limb. Yellow’s struggles continued for several moments, but became weaker and weaker. He finally went limp, optics staring sightlessly at the farthest wall. It was a good sedative that Ratchet had picked; pain control as well as an immobilization medication. But it was also short acting, so Ratchet grabbed his bag and moved forward.

               Only to be stopped once more by Red’s show of teeth. Ratchet’s bag plunked back to the ground in frustration. “Come on! I can’t do anything with you sitting on him! Go! Shoo!” He waved a hand, trying to wave the protective beast away.

               Red’s head lowered, optics peering up at Ratchet in a fixed stare that made the medic shiver. He had seen similar looks in documentaries on the faces of the beasts that still roamed the undeveloped parts of the world. Although smaller than his wild cousins, Red was no less dangerous, and Ratchet froze, suddenly feeling more threatened now than he had been when he first entered the room.

               Then the spell broke as Red barked once more and hopped to the side by his brother’s head. He sat on his haunches, tail balancer wrapping around to cover his paws. His audio flaps flipped forward, and the lips came down, covering the gleaming teeth.

               Ratchet blinked at the transformation. Red now looked like many of the companion dogs Ratchet had seen on his rounds, if a little more roughed up. Red looked over at Yellow and then back to the medic, giving a short yip as if to say, _I give you my permission. Now fix him!_

\--

                Sideswipe watched the vet as he worked on Sunstreaker. The medic moved with confidence, seemingly not fazed by a vicious dog staring at him while he worked. The repairs were over quickly, much quicker than any of the other medics that had ever laid hands on them. The entire time, Ratchet spoke aloud of what he was doing, what part he was exchanging and why he was clamping this line off. Sideswipe understood every word, although the meaning behind much of the medical jargon escaped him. Sideswipe knew that Ratchet believed they couldn’t understand him, but the dog was grateful anyway. It gave himself something to focus on instead of seeing his twin’s innards strewn all over the floor.

                “There. That should do it,” Ratchet said, giving Sunstreaker’s shoulder one final pat. “Now let’s see what you’ve got going on.”

                He reached over Sunstreaker and gripped under Sideswipe’s lower jaw, forcing his head up and letting the medic critically examine his face. Sideswipe froze at the abrupt handling, optics wide as foreign hands roamed over his head and then to the rest of his body. The vet’s hands were gentle but confident, and Sideswipe found himself beginning to tremble in confusion. He couldn’t remember a time when someone had touched him in anything beyond anger or greed. This was almost… nice…

                “Now, now,” Ratchet said soothingly, as his hands patched a small tear on the back of Sideswipe’s neck. “No reason to shake. I’m not going to hurt you.”

                Up close like this, Sideswipe let himself be distracted into analyzing all the scents that clung to the vet’s frame. Scents of other dogs, at least a dozen, and some felines as well. A hint of spice clung to the stink of antiseptic, and Sideswipe couldn’t decide if he was intrigued or disgusted. So he shuffled forward a bit, his sensor laden nostrils scenting along the medic’s side as Ratchet palmed Sideswipe’s hips and back legs.

                “Not too bad,” Ratchet murmured. “A lot of these should be fixed by your self- repair systems. A little thin. Wonder how much your rations are. All in all though, you are a pretty handsome fellow.” Ratchet sat back and stroked a hand over Sideswipe’s helm, right between his audio flaps.

                Sideswipe trembled again, but this time he couldn’t stop his tail from making a few sweeps behind him. Ratched eyed the tail and then stroked again, curling his fingers up behind the base of one of the audios and massaging the flap’s connection.

                “Like that, huh?” he asked, with a small grin.

                Sideswipe wanted to tell him to wipe the smug smirk off his face, but all he could do was groan and lean his head into the caress. His tail began beating against the floor in a mad, uncoordinated rhythm.

                Ratchet chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you do,” he said, answering his own question. His other hand came up to join the first, and Sideswipe collapsed halfway across the medic’s lap, making whuffing sounds of bliss. Some part of him was horrified at his own behavior. The rest of him said frag it all and enjoy the attention; that was the part he listened to.

                Smiling in delight, Ratchet smoothed hands over Sideswipe’s upper body and back, always going back to the audio flaps. Sideswipe squirmed and wriggled and eventually ended up on his back, Ratchet’s hands tickling his belly. Legs kicking at the air, he felt utterly silly with his glossa hanging out of his open mouth, but he felt so good! What was this vet doing to him?!

                Twisting his head, he caught sight of Sunstreaker’s open optics. His brother was staring at him in hazy confusion, an emotion that was beginning to seep over the bond. _What are you doing? Is he hurting you?_

                _Na uh! He’s… he’s petting me, I think. It’s great!_

Sunstreaker lifted his head to see and a flare of pain escaped past the block. Sideswipe was up in an instant, nose working along the fresh patches with cautious intent. _I’m alright, stop it._

                _I was worried about you,_ Sideswipe confessed, satisfied that the wounds were still closed. He could now feel that the pain was due to overstressed cables and bruises, nothing fatal. Sideswipe curled up along his brother’s side, his head coming to rest on Sunstreaker’s shoulder. Sunstreaker lifted his head enough to nuzzle at Sideswipe’s face and then stretched back out.

                “Well. I think you two will be all right,” Ratchet remarked. He picked up his kit and slung it over his shoulder. He paused for a moment, staring down at the dogs. “You two take care of each other.” With a frown, the medic turned and walked away, the door shutting softly behind him.

                Sideswipe’s optics blinked several times before he settled against his brother more securely. _I liked him._

                Sunstreaker grunted, shifting to find a more comfortable spot. _You let him rub your belly,_ he said with a hint of disgust.

                _Don’t knock it til you try it_ , Sideswipe returned. _I hope he comes back._ Sideswipe’s systems began powering down, content now that his brother was safe. He crawled deeper into their bond, forcing pulses of love and memories of the medic’s hands on him until he could feel Sunstreaker began to relax as well.

                _He did an ok job_ , Sunstreaker said grudgingly.

                _I liked him,_ Sideswipe repeated. _I wish we were his._

Sunstreaker sighed in response to the wistful whisper, and cuddled closer, recharge claiming them both within moments.


	2. Chapter 2

                The two fighting dog mechs haunted Ratchet’s thoughts for days after he left the arena. His rotation ended without him ever treating them again, although he _had_ managed to find Red and Yellow’s owner and had laid into him about the condition of his “pets”. Ratchet didn’t know if anything would change, but he had at least tried.

                His thoughts kept circling back to the way Red had seemed to instinctively know when Yellow was in pain, how the two had curled so tightly against one another. If they were indeed twins, a rare occurrence even amidst the non-beast population, then Ratchet could only imagine how being forced to fight would affect them.

                “You’re brooding again, Ratch,” Wheeljack’s cheerful voice said, speaking up from the berth opposite his. Ratchet eyed his roommate and then his humming datapads strewn on the bed. He sighed, thumbing the active one off.

                “Those fighting dogs… I just can’t…” Ratchet gestured into the air helplessly.

                Wheeljack regarded his friend, smile fading from his faceplates. “Can you do anything about it?”

                Ratchet shook his head in frustration. “No! Everything appears legal, even the fight right before I was called in. I’ve seen the video – they immobilized the dogs apart as soon as Yellow was injured. It wasn’t a fight to the death, although scars would suggest otherwise.”

                “Can’t you go with that? Build a case around the old injuries and call the owner into suspect?”

                “I considered it. But I’ve been warned off that course of action. It seems that TopNotch has some pretty high connections in this town,” Ratchet said bitterly.

                Wheeljack leaned back against the wall of his berth, looking thoughtful. “Could you buy them?”

                Ratchet looked at Wheeljack askance. “Right, because I have that sort of money. One. Maybe, if I qualified for a loan. But where would I put him?” he asked, gesturing around their student living quarters. He shook his head. “Besides, I believe that they are twins. Separating them would probably kill them.”

                “What about that? The Twins thing?”

                “I asked TopNotch. He pulled their papers which say they’re not even related; just models from the same line. And the papers all seem legit.” Ratchet threw up his arms. “Do you see where I’m at?”

                Wheeljack tapped his chin with one slender digit. “I do. I do. Hmmm. Have you seen them since that first time?”

                “No. I’m off that rotation.”

                “Who’s on it now?”

                “Brightspark and Coda.” Ratchet’s faceplates sagged in depression. “They did Yellow’s recheck. Seemed he was healing well, but they couldn’t get close enough to lay hands on him.”

                “Well, let’s go see them then!” Wheeljack suggested brightly, pulling out a personal communications device and punching at the keys.

                “What are you talking about?” Ratchet asked warily. He liked Wheeljack a lot, but his plans had a habit of backfiring.

                “Look!” Wheeljack said, shoving the datapad into Ratchet’s faceplates. “All of TopNotch’s fighting dogs are part of an exhibition tomorrow night. There are still tickets available.”

                Ratchet took the device from Wheeljack and studied the screen. The ticket price was exorbitant, but it was a small price to pay in order to see for himself that the two dogs were doing all right.

                “Order the tickets,” he told Wheeljack, handing the datapad back. “Maybe we can think of something else while we’re there.”

                Nodding happily, Wheeljack complied while Ratchet stared off into the distance, wondering how one mere hour of work could lodge those two dogs so deep into his spark.

\--

                The tournament arena was busy. Wheeljack and Ratchet wove through the crowds, staring at the exhibits and the mechs visiting them.

                “Guess this was a good night to come, huh?” Wheeljack asked, optics following several Senators that had just crossed in front of their path.

                Ratchet made a noncommittal noise while glaring at an exhibit that extolled the sportsmanship of dog fighting. “I can’t believe I paid to attend this,” he muttered.

                Wheeljack grabbed Ratchet’s arm by the elbow joint and began dragging him away from the display. “Come on, they have a lot of the dogs out to view. Maybe your two will be there.”

                The sounds of loud barking made it easy to find their way to the dogs’ enclosures. Ratchet eyed all of the beasts carefully. They looked to be healthy and boisterous with bright optics. Some of them boasted scars, but they all appeared to be well cared for.

                “Are those them?” Wheeljack asked, suddenly elbowing Ratchet’s side. Ratchet followed Wheeljack’s pointing finger and sucked in a breath. At the end of the row a cage larger than the rest sat, mostly obscured by visitors. A flash of crimson peeked through the crowd, and Ratchet began moving in that direction.

                The two friends soon found themselves in the middle of the cage’s awestruck throng. Ratchet growled irritably as several younglings pushed through the crowd and pressed against the indestructible clear viewing plate.  Something in Ratchet’s spark twisted as the younglings banged on the door and the dogs inside jumped to their feet, finally allowing Ratchet to see them clearly.

                Ratchet could see that Yellow had been freshly repainted, signs of his former wounds all but invisible except to a trained eye. Red was gleaming as well, audio flaps straining upwards in curiosity, while Yellow snarled soundlessly at the crowd peering in at them.

                “They’re beautiful,” Wheeljack breathed. “No wonder you’re so enamored with them,” he commented, watching Yellow curl up in a far corner with his back to the crowd. Red trotted back and forth along the width of the cage, watching the antics of the younglings with interest.

                Slowly, Wheeljack and Ratchet managed to work themselves to the front of the crowd. A jostling group behind him shoved Ratchet up against the glass with a bang, and he threw a glare over his shoulder before looking down at his chassis to check for scratches.

                “Ratchet,” Wheeljack breathed, calling his attention back to the cage.

                Ratchet froze as his gaze locked with that of the red dog only feet away. Red stood frozen as well, head cocked to the side. Then he burst into motion, mouth opening in a flurry of barking as he rushed the partition and jumped up, blades scratching against the inner surface. His tail balancer was waving behind him wildly, and his audio flaps perked forward with interest.

                “I think he remembers you,” Wheeljack said wryly, observing the overjoyed beast mech.

\--

                _Sunny! Sunnysunnysunny! He’s here_! Sideswipe blurted over their bond even as he threw himself against the partition.

                _Who’s here?_ Sunstreaker asked, shifting and raising his head, watching his twin flail himself around like an idiot.

                _The vet! The vet!_ Sideswipe paused, stepping away from the window, so Sunstreaker could see the white and red form of the vet who had treated him not so long ago.

                _So?_ Sunstreaker’s head lay back down on his paws. But Sideswipe noted that his optics never left the form of the medic.

                _He’s here for us!_ Sideswipe plopped down on his rear end and stared intently at his brother, glossa lolling out to the side as he panted slightly from his exertions.

                Sunstreaker sighed and got up, stretching, his wickedly sharp claws gleaming in the lights. He padded over next to his brother and mirrored his pose, gaze flickering over the crowd before landing on the medic.

                _He’s not here for us. We’re not injured_.

                Sideswipe rear end wiggled in his excitement, and he couldn’t stop himself from jumping up and pawing at the glass separating them from the vet.

                _Here to see us fight. Take us home?_ The last bit was directed at the vet in a sharp, inquisitive bark.

                _You’re an idiot,_ Sunstreaker commented, yawning. Several members of the crowd stepped back with ‘o’s of amazement on their faces at the sight of his fearsome teeth. _He can’t hear you._

Sideswipe ignored him, dropping down onto his front legs with his rear end high in the air, tail balancer waving like a flag. He barked, short excited yips as the vet reached out, lightly touching the glass on his side.

                Several rows back, gleaming optics caught Sunstreaker’s attention. The faceplates of their owner, TopNotch, was blank, but nevertheless, Sunstreaker felt a chill creep down his frame.

                _Sideswipe! Knock it off! TopNotch is watching_.

                _So? I don’t care_ , came the flippant response.

                _He does._

                Sideswipe’s optics rose, finding and dismissing the mech that tossed them into the ring again and again. _Frag him_.

                TopNotch’s browplates twisted as he watched the normally fierce dog act like a sparkling puppy. The chill grew more intense. _Sideswipe! Seriously!_

                _Frag him! I’m not doing anything wrong_! Sideswipe insisted.

                Growling, Sunstreaker leapt forward, butting Sideswipe so that he toppled over. Sideswipe was up in an instant, lipplates drawn back into a snarl. Sunstreaker swept out a paw, forcing his brother to duck and roll. He came up almost directly beneath Sunstreaker, causing him to leap back, an answering growl ringing out in the small enclosure.

 _Better. If he catches you acting like a soft-sparked puppy, he’ll get rid of you_ , Sunstreaker said, the two of them exchanging blows, jaws snapping at each other. Sideswipe paused a moment, almost getting his tail bit off.

                _We’re the best! He’d never get rid of us!_ Sideswipe proclaimed, pouncing on his brother. They rolled across the cage, kicking and nipping, but never really making contact. They knew how to put on a show, especially when they knew each other’s limits intimately.

                _Don’t be so sure._ They rolled to a stop and broke away simultaneously, each walking to opposite corners of the cage as if nothing had ever happened. Sideswipe couldn’t help one more happy yip in the vet’s direction, however, even as the announcer’s booming voice echoed through the arena.

\--

                Wheeljack turned wide optics to Ratchet. “You were in a cage alone with that!” he squeaked pointing to the tussling beasts. The cage was rocking on its base as the dogs rolled across the floor.

                Ratchet nodded, his own optics fixed on the two forms inside the enclosure. The joy that Red had expressed upon seeing the medic made Ratchet’s spark sing. Even Yellow had seemed to be interested.

                Wheeljack shook his head as the announcer’s voice rang over the indoor communications. “I think they can take care of themselves.”

                “We’ll see,” Ratchet murmured, getting swept up into the crowd as the throng being moving towards their seats. He glanced over his shoulder one last time and saw Red staring at him, audio flaps drooping as he watched the vet walk away.  

\--

                “I don’t know if I can watch any more of this,” Ratchet said, taking a sip of his overpriced mid-grade.

                Wheeljack jumped to his feet, cheering as the dog he had been rooting for took a chunk out of his opponent’s thigh. The science student subsided back into his seat at Ratchet’s glare, muttering a sheepish ‘sorry’.

                “You have to admit though, it’s all very exciting. And none of the dogs have seemed to be heavily injured,” Wheeljack pointed out.

                Ratchet stared. “They’re still being injured. For our amusement!”

                “Yeah, I know,” Wheeljack sighed, chastised.

                As the last two combatants were removed from the arena, a mech different than the announcer stepped in. Ratchet straightened, seeing that it was Red and Yellow’s owner.

                “Thank you! Thank you all for coming out tonight to witness this wonderful sport of dog fighting! Up next is a special treat! Pack against pack! You’ll get to see how these specially trained beasts fight as a team to win! We hope you enjoy!” The mech waved once and then disappeared behind the announcer’s partition.

                “Oh, I guess this will be them, then?” Wheeljack asked, leaning forward eagerly. Ratchet’s lipplates curled as his gaze followed TopNotch.

                “I don’t like that mech,” he growled. Wheeljack looked up at Ratchet in surprise. He reached over and grasped the vet’s forearm.

                “It’ll be all right, Ratch. We’ll think of something.”

                Ratchet shook his head in despair. “What if we do? What if we manage to save Red and Yellow? Then what? What about the rest of them?”

                Before Wheeljack could answer, one of the hatches leading from the kennels opened and several dog mechs emerged. They were black with streaks of white across their faces and haunches. Splashes of red paint identified each as numbers one through four. The dogs moved in tight formation, the largest and bulkiest taking the lead while the rest fanned out around him.

                “Four,” Ratchet murmured. “Surely they wouldn’t…?”

                But they did. A hatch on the opposite side of the arena slid open and Red and Yellow slunk out onto the floor. They separated almost immediately, coming to rest on their haunches several feet apart near the middle of the ring. The electric barrier separating the two halves of the arena crackled and spit as Red edged up close, staring at the four dogs on the other side. He barked at them, to all appearances appearing like a friendly, happy companion dog. His broad shoulders and gleaming claws said something else. 

                “Four against two?” Ratchet wondered aloud, worry eating at his spark.

                Just then, the barrier dropped, and the larger pack leapt forward. 

\--

                _Is he here?_ Sideswipe asked, gaze focused on the dogs opposite them. He barked, a taunting little ditty that he doubted the others really understood, but the tone was enough to get them growling.

                _18 th row up. 45 degrees to our left_, Sunstreaker supplied, already knowing that Sideswipe was asking about the vet.

                Sideswipe glanced up quickly to see the medic leaning forward, peering down at them with worried optics. _Let’s give him a good show, shall we?_

 _Don’t we always?_ Sunstreaker retorted, getting to his feet as one of the attendants reached for the barrier control.

                Sideswipe looked over his shoulder at his twin, lips lifted in a fearsome grin. _You know it._

\--

                The entire audience held their breaths as the larger pack split, dogs 1 and 3 moving to take on Yellow and the others heading for Red. Yellow and Red shifted on their paws, cables flexing as the other dogs barreled down on them. Then at the last possible moment, the brothers jerked out of the way. Yellow broke into a run. Red tucked and rolled, long neck extending to nip at number 2’s heels as he roared by. The red dog made contact, a small drop of energon welling up, and the number 2 was immediately downed by its collar. Red leapt to his feet, dancing in place and waiting for his other opponent to come back around.

                Meanwhile, the other two mechs were hot on Yellow’s tail as he made a circle around the arena. He ran easily, long legs eating up the ground with little effort. In a move that made the audience gasp, he suddenly cut to the side, narrowly escaping hitting Red. Red pivoted to face Yellow’s attackers as numbers 1 and 3 stumbled at Yellow’s sudden turn. At the end of the pivot, Red made a flying leap up and over the back of number 3, claws scratching shallow grooves over number 3’s neck. Almost simultaneously, Yellow whirled and dove for dog number 4, who had been on a direct path for Red. Teeth flashing, Yellow clamped down on the mech’s front leg, metal raking against metal. Number 3 and 4 both collapsed, immobilized by their collars.

                Number 1 slid to a halt and turned around, suddenly alone. He backed up slowly, looking left and right to no avail. Red and Yellow met up and strode forward, shoulders brushing against one another with every other step. The lone opponent cowered back as the brothers drew near, lowering himself to his belly. Red and Yellow crept up over him, heads lowered and teeth bared. Finally, Red’s head darted forward, and he nipped the whimpering dog’s ear with his teeth, signaling the end of the match.

                Ratchet’s breath left him in a mighty gust. They were ok. They were fine. They had bested the other pack in less than a minute, and now Ratchet was even more intrigued with the pair.

                Red lifted his head, a short triumphant howl emerging from the back of his vocalizer. The dog’s optics scanned the crowd, finally landing on Ratchet. Red sat down abruptly, tail wagging slowly behind him as he doggy grinned in the medic’s direction.

                Ratchet grinned back, unable to help himself. Amidst the screams and yells of the crowd, the vet medic sat and let his optics drink in the sight of his two favorite patients. Then and there he vowed that nothing would ever hurt them again.

 


	3. Chapter 3

                Much to Sideswipe’s disappointment, they did not see the vet again the day of the tournament. They were corralled back into their caged room and left there. Dimly, they could hear the roar of the crowd as TopNotch and the other owners brought out their best for demonstrations. Sideswipe occupied himself by pacing back and forth in front of the door, stilling whenever he heard a sound out in the hall.

                _He’s not coming_ , Sunstreaker said finally after watching Sideswipe pace for upwards of an hour. Sunstreaker was curled up in the corner with his back against the wall, optics lazily following Sideswipe’s motions.

                _He could still come_ , Sideswipe replied, not even looking back at his brother. He abruptly threw himself to the floor, gaze still fixed on the door.

                _He’s just a vet, Sideswipe. He’s not going to come and whisk us away. He was here doing his job and that’s all._

 _Then why did he come today?_ Sideswipe snarled, shifting on the floor to glare at Sunstreaker.

                Sunstreaker shrugged _. Curiosity, maybe. Why are you so fixated on him anyway? Because he gave you a few scritches behind the audios?_

It was Sideswipe’s turn to shrug. _I don’t know. It was more than that. It was…_ Sideswipe trailed off, at a loss to explain the connection he had felt with the medic. He’s intakes heaved out a large gust of air as he hauled himself to his feet and trotted over to his brother. He laid back down, half atop Sunstreaker and wormed his head beneath his twin’s.

                Sideswipe shivered, feeling lonely despite his twin’s solid presence wrapped around him. _There’s more out there than this, I remember that._

 _This is what we were built for, Sides,_ Sunstreaker said quietly. _We’re not lap dogs_.

                _Well, maybe I’m just tired of being a dog!_ Sideswipe whined and buried his head farther beneath Sunstreaker’s. _I mean, do_ you _like it here? Stuck like this?_

Sunstreaker shifted uneasily. _I can’t remember as much as you can. Here’s as good as any place. I’ve got you, anyway._

Sideswipe raised his head, licking his brother’s muzzle. _I’m glad we’ve got each other. But I know there are better things. I just know it._

                The yellow dog nudged Sideswipe’s head back down. _We’ll see, Sides. We’ll see._

\--

                Several more days passed, and Ratchet moved on with his studies. He didn’t have the funds to continue attending the dog fighting tournaments, so he relied on Brightspark and Coda to report back to him about how the brothers were doing. The other two residents rarely interacted with Red and Yellow; the dogs were considered the best for a reason and rarely got injured enough to need medical assistance. Nevertheless, one of the two would always stop by and peek in on the dogs for Ratchet.

                So when Coda commed Ratchet early in the cycle on his day off, he thought it was a little odd but didn’t think much of it.

                **Ratchet here** , he said, distracted by the display of datapads in front of him.

                **Ratchet! You need to get here quick!**

The vet’s attention immediately sharpened in on Coda’s communications. **What is it?**  He asked, already moving out of the shop and dropping into his transport form. He quickly merged with the traffic heading in the direction of the arena.

                **Red’s been hurt badly. It must have happened sometime during the night, because there were no scheduled fights today.**

 **What are his injuries?** Ratchet demanded.

                **His right rear limb is crushed from the hip down. His pelvic struts are shattered, and one of his back struts is cracked. He can’t walk.** Coda’s voice choked up. **TopNotch wants to put him down.**

 **NO!** Ratchet shouted. **No, you can’t let him,** Ratchet repeated, trying to calm down **. Do whatever it takes, but stall him until I can get there.**

 **Ratchet…**  Coda trailed off. **Ratchet, this is bad. He’s lost a lot of energon, and his fuel pump keeps misfiring. Maybe it would be best if we did as TopNotch asked.**

 **At least give me until I get there,** Ratchet pleaded. **Please.**

There was a long pause before Coda replied. **All right. We’ll do what we can. ‘Spark’s gonna meet you at the back door; he’ll have a visitor’s pass ready for you.**

 **Thank you. Thank you, Coda. You don’t know what this means to me,** Ratchet replied.

                **You’re right. I don’t know what this means to you. I’ve never seen this dog be anything but aggressive. His packmate is even worse. Right now Yellow’s in isolation, sedated, because he nearly tore the door down trying to get to Red,** Coda informed him.

                Ratchet sped up, whipping around corners. **There’s another side to Red; to both of them. I know you don’t believe me, but there is. I’ll be there as soon as I can.**

 **We’ll be waiting,** was the final reply, and then she ended the communication.

                Ratchet squashed down his swirling emotions. He had a duty as a medic to view Red’s injuries as objectively as possible. If it was as serious as Coda had suggested, than euthanasia might truly be the best option. Then again, Ratchet was the best junior surgeon that the Academy had seen in years. If there was a chance…

                It took a few more minutes before he could arrive. He sped up to the visitor’s door and waited until the last possible second to transform, sliding to a stop in front of his classmate, Brightspark. The large brown and tan mech nodded at Ratchet, throwing a visitor’s badge his way. Ratchet tossed it over his head, indicating for ‘Spark to lead him back.

                They moved through the halls quickly, but quietly. The Arena was very strict on visitor policy, and Ratchet had no idea how his classmates had managed to get him approved so quickly.

                When they arrived at the dogs’ cage, Ratchet’s spark grew cold. An energon trail led up to the door from the opposite end of the hallway, as if something had been dragged, leaking, the whole way there. Deep gouges bit into the concrete doorframe as well as the floor just outside the doorway.

                ‘Spark saw Ratchet’s look and explained. “They pulled Yellow out, but even with the collar, he was fighting every step of the way. We finally had to dart him,” the other student said, in his deep baritone.

                Just then, they both heard Coda’s voice from inside, cajoling one moment and then cursing the next. Ratchet rushed inside. He paused, standing just behind Coda, optics automatically cataloguing every injury, even as he felt his spark flutter in despair. It was bad; Coda hadn’t been over exaggerating.

                “Ratchet! Good! You’re here,” Coda exclaimed, running a hand over her faceplates. “Maybe you can do something, because I can’t even get close to the damn thing.” She threw a wrench to the side and it landed by Red’s head. The dog’s wide optics rolled as he scrambled at the ground with his front paws, unable to find purchase. He was whining, short distressed yips that tugged at the spark.

                “At first, he didn’t seem to care that we were working on him. Then all of a sudden, he flipped out. Bites anything that comes close.”

                Ratchet leaned down, ignoring Red’s lip snarl. He listened carefully to the arrhythmic sounds of the dog’s fuel pump, reaching out a hand to place on Red’s chestplates to feel it. Ratchet abruptly yanked his hand back as Red’s head sinuously darted forward, teeth clacking on empty air.

                Almost absently, Ratchet reached down, picked up the wrench and swept it upside Red’s head. The other students winced at the echoing ‘clank’ that rang out. “Stop that. I can’t help you if you’re going to bite my hand off,” Ratchet scolded, removing his kit from subspace.

                Red’s head dropped back to the ground, snuffling. With one heave, he pushed himself sternal as his optics gained more awareness. An inquisitive whine emerged, made all the more pitiful by the ripped left audio flap that hung useless, framing his face.

                “Yeah, it’s me. Think you’re gonna let me work on you now?” Ratchet asked, removing components from his medical kit.

                “Ratchet…” Coda warned, as Ratchet reached back out and laid a hand on the dog’s chest. But this time Red did nothing more than lean forward, nostrils working as he snuffled along Ratchet’s arm.

                “Primus,” Brightspark breathed, both students amazed to see the dog’s muzzle nudge at Ratchet’s elbow joint, glossa coming out in a weak lick.

                “I’m worried about this fuel pump,” Ratchet said, not even noticing. “It’s probably misfiring due to the loss of energon,” he said, eyeing the large pool that the dog’s lower half was laying in. “Did you manage to clamp off those distal lines?”

                Coda shook her head, watching in astonishment as the dog attempted to drag himself closer to the vet, almost appearing as if he wanted to climb into Ratchet’s lap.

                “No, that was about the time that he went berserk.”

                Ratchet’s sensors indentified the cracked back strut, and he pushed at Red until the dog was lying flat on his side. “Stay there,” he commanded. “Much more twisting on your spinal struts and that cracked one will break. Then you won’t have any motion at all in your lower half.”

                Red’s tail weakly thumped twice before laying still. His intakes heaved out a large sigh as he subsided under Ratchet’s probing hands.

                Even though the dog was not fighting him any longer, Red still seemed restless. He couldn’t seem to stop his head from moving around, optics searching every corner of the room he could see from his limited position. His front limbs twitched, blade claws flexing minutely. Ratchet looked up from the shattered  
pelvic struts as a thought occurred to him.

                “When did he start fighting you? Was it right after Yellow was sedated?”

                Coda and Brightspark looked at each other, and the petite femme answered. “You know, yeah. Right after.”

                Ratchet shook his head, lipplates moving together in an unhappy frown. “Same models, my aft,” he swore. “Can you bring Yellow in here?”

                Brightspark’s optics widened, and he glanced into the hallway. “But… it’s crazed.”

                “ _He_ ’s sedated,” Ratchet said, stressing the pronoun. “He shouldn’t be any danger.”

                Coda shook her head. “Why?”

                Ratchet looked from one to the other, even as his hands went through the automatic motion of choosing and loading a local anesthetic. “I think they’re twins. Spark-split even.”

                Coda shook her head again, this time in denial. “No, there’s only been one documented case in beast mechs and…”

                “It won’t cause any harm to bring Yellow in here. So please. Just… just bring him in,” Ratchet said, speaking over her. Coda huffed, her arms folding over her chassis and glaring. Brightspark glanced from Ratchet to Coda and shaking his head slightly, he left the room.

                “Do you even think you can save him?” Coda asked.

                “It’s worth a try,” Ratchet replied. “All right now, gonna spike your lines, make this next part a little more comfortable,” he informed Red, smoothing a palm along the dog’s flank. The needle slid in to the dog’s lower back port smoothly, and almost instantly, Red relaxed too tight cables.

                “You know they’re gladiator dogs, right?” Coda asked. “Why are you going to so much effort?”

                “They didn’t ask to be.”

                “He’s a killer! A mindless beast!” Coda protested.

                “He’s a living creature in pain,” Ratchet retorted, looking up at her sharply. “If you can’t recognize that, then maybe you’re in the wrong profession.”

                While Coda spluttered, Brightspark came back in, lugging Yellow’s large frame. He gently set the other dog down next to Red. He immediately sniffed his brother’s recharging form, nudging it. He growled softly, watching the other dog’s intakes slowly move and then settled back down, content that Yellow was not harmed.

                “All right, let’s get these lines clamped off,” Ratchet said, selecting several large hemostats. He pushed aside dangling metal and torn cables, locating and pinching off the main energon line in Red’s inner thigh. Ratchet clamped off two more minor lines and wiped away the internal structures as well as he could, eyeing the lines critically.

                “That should hold for now,” he announced.

                “For now,” Brightspark echoed. “He’ll need surgery. Probably a transfusion. TopNotch’s not going to want to spend money on him for a lengthy recovery.”

                Red raised his head, optics flicking from one mech to another. Ratchet unconsciously reached out and soothingly patted Red on the shoulder.

                “He’s stable. The surgery would be complicated, but I’ve done something similar. He has a good chance,” Ratchet reported.

                Before Brightspark could respond, he jolted forward, pushed from behind by another mech entering the room. TopNotch came to a stop, optics observing the scene in front of him. They finally landed on Red, who growled and flashed his teeth.

                Reaching out a hand, TopNotch pointed at Red. “Why isn’t that dog offlined yet?”

 


	4. Chapter 4

                  “Sir,” Ratchet said, inclining his head respectfully, trying to tamp down his emotions and be reasonable. “My classmates asked me to come by and take a look at your dog here. I’ve shown a lot of aptitude for surgery, and they wanted my opinion.” He inwardly cringed at mentioning Coda and Brightspark’s names. Ratchet didn’t want them getting into trouble over this. He hoped TopNotch would take it as a meeting of the minds between the residents and not a conspiracy.

                  TopNotch’s optics flicked over to examine Coda and Brightspark and then returned to Ratchet. “Thank you for coming by. But your opinion is neither wanted nor needed.” He turned to Coda. “Put him down,” he commanded.

                  “Sir!” Ratchet protested, rising from his crouch a little. “Yes, Red is seriously injured, but he can be fixed. I’d really like to be given the opportunity to…”

                  “Youngling,” TopNotch started. Ratchet twitched at the implied insult. “He’s my property. He’s broken, and I’m not interested in spending the time and money it would take to fix him. There are other dogs out there just as good and even better than him. He’s lost the taste for it anyway,” TopNotch said, sneering down at the dog.

                  "Last night was pitiful,” he said, staring down Red. “You deserve every wound for that lackluster performance.”

                Red snarled and tried to leap up but was restrained by Ratchet’s shaking hand. Feeling the tremors, Red whined and nudged Ratchet’s wrist, licking at the metal with small, comforting laps.

                TopNotch’s sharp gaze noticed the interaction, and his faceplates morphed into an expression of recognition. “You!” he said, pointing at Ratchet. “You were at the exhibition. The one that this idiot was fawning over. And shortly before that, you were the vet treating Yellow. What did you do to my dogs?” he demanded.

                Ratchet looked taken back for a moment, before responding with nearly the same amount of heat. “I’ve done nothing but treat them with the respect they deserve as living creatures,” Ratchet replied, in a low voice.

                TopNotch scoffed. “Another bleeding spark. They’re just dumb beasts. Who are owned by me, and I have the right to put them down at will,” he said, looking meaningfully at the other residents.

                Ratchet crossed his arms over his chassis. “And we have the right to refuse to offline, if we feel there is an honest chance of survival. There are other options available to you.”

                Smiling a little, still believing he had won, he turned to face the other students directly. “And you? You both feel the same way?”

                Brightspark glanced quickly at Ratchet, and then nodded. Coda opened her mouth and then stilled, seeing Ratchet’s glare. She sighed, optics moving around the room, lingering the longest on Ratchet’s comforting hand stroking Red’s shoulder. Finally she nodded as well. “Mostly because I just don’t like you,” she said frankly to TopNotch.

                Gritting his denta, he glared at the students. “Fine! Then I’ll find someone who will!”

                “Give him up!” Ratchet said, raising his voice as TopNotch turned to leave.

                The owner whirled around and stared at Ratchet. “What did you say?”

                “Sell him. Give him away. There are other options,” Ratchet repeated, beginning to feel desperate. If TopNotch did manage to find something willing to offline Red, it would all be over.

                A sly look passed across TopNotch’s faceplates. “Sell Red? To whom, do you suppose? Who’s going to want a broken down, past his prime, fighter?”

                “I do. Name your price,” Ratchet said, his shoulders straightening.

                TopNotch eyed the medic, considering, finally speaking a number. Behind TopNotch, Coda gasped at the sum.

                Ratchet hesitated for only a moment. “I can get you half today and the other half tomorrow.”

                “And you’ll sign a waiver,” TopNotch added. “I only want _you_ to work on him, administer his medical care. And he’ll never fight again.”

                “Agreed,” Ratchet said, nodding sharply.

                “Take him then,” TopNotch said airily. “I’ll expect the account transfer momentarily.” He spun around and stalked out. Ratchet was sure if the door had been properly hung on its hinges, the owner would have slammed it.

                “Ratchet, this is insane,” Coda said, hovering over her classmate as he rushed to get Red ready to move before TopNotch changed his mind.

                “Probably,” Ratchet replied, one part of his processor working on the monetary transfer. It would completely empty out his savings and spending money accounts, but he would have done anything to get Red out of this place.

                “Brightspark, we can’t transform in here. Could you find something suitable to place him on to transport him out of the building?”

                “I’ll go look,” ‘Spark said and rushed out of the room.

                “All right now,” Ratchet said, his voice dropping back into the comforting tone he used with his patients. “We’re going to have to put you into medical stasis for the trip. It’s to conserve energon and keep you from hurting yourself further as we transport you,” Ratchet explained, his fingers quickly finding the data port on the back of Red’s’ neck.

                Red whined lowly, but otherwise didn’t protest as Ratchet hooked up and sent the commands for stasis. One by one, Red’s systems powered down, until the light faded from the dog’s deep blue optics. When Ratchet was sure Red was completely in stasis, he began packing up his kit. Brightspark still hadn’t returned yet, so he stood and walked over to Yellow. Red’s brother was still sedated and likely to be so for several more hours. Frowning a little, Ratchet bent and hefted Yellow’s frame into his arms.

                “You didn’t buy _him_ ,” Coda reminded Ratchet.

                “I know. He’ll just have to stay here until I can figure something out. He should be all right,” Ratchet said, knowing deep down in his spark that that was probably a lie. If Yellow had reacted badly to Red’s injury and subsequent separation, than removing Red completely from the premises would likely result in an unmanageably aggressive animal.

                Ratchet carried Yellow back down to the small isolation room and gently placed him on the floor. He stared down at the dog for several moments before fingering the shock collar on Yellow’s neck. Making a snap decision, he quickly found the source of power and disabled it. Then Ratchet backed out of the room and shut the door, locking it behind him. Yellow should wake up without any difficulties. With his shock collar disabled, Ratchet hoped that they wouldn’t be able to handle the dog, place him in any fights, or offline him. Of course, a long distance pulse rifle would do the trick too, but Ratchet hoped that Yellow was too valuable for that route.

                Ratchet heard Brightspark coming down the hall and hurried to meet up with him, pushing thoughts of Yellow from his processor. One twin at a time. “What did you get?”

                Brightspark showed him the length of metal in his hands. Ratchet eyed it critically. “That’ll do. Come on, let’s load him up and get him out of here.”

\--

                Ratchet found Wheeljack in the student lab after searching nearly the entire Academy. The vet should have checked there first, but after the last explosion, Ratchet had thought they had kicked the science student out for an indeterminable period of time.

                “’Jack!” Ratchet called, seeing his roommate’s large form hunched over a work bench. The budding inventor jolted, and several metal parts crashed to the floor. Ratchet cringed, but when no signs of smoke or fire presented themselves, he walked closer.

                “Ratch! Hey, where have you been?” Wheeljack said happily. “Woah! You look rough. Isn’t this your day off?” he asked, optics narrowing to take in his friend’s dull finish and drooping shoulders.

                Ratchet checked his chronometer. “Yesterday was. It’s been today for two hours.”

                “Huh. Guess so. I got a little caught up here,” Wheeljack remarked, hand indicating his current project. “What have you been up to? Get called in on a special case?”

                “You could say that,” Ratchet remarked, sitting down heavily on a nearby stool. “I bought Red.”

                Wheeljack jolted to his feet. “What?! When?”

                “Yesterday. He was severely injured in a fight last night. Two nights ago. Coda called me because TopNotch was going to offline Red. So… I bought him. Been repairing him since yesterday morning.”

                “You _bought_ him? For how much?”

                Ratchet frowned. “A lot. But it was worth it. The damage was extensive, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. While I was repairing him, I did a full physical, defragmented his processor, looked over every internal and external surface.” Ratchet shook his head. “He’s been through a lot. But I found something I wanted you to take a look at. I’ve never seen anything like it before,” he said, holding out his hand.

                Wheeljack peered down at the tiny silver piece of metal sitting in Ratchet’s palm. He poked at it with one hesitant finger before picking it up, his hand dwarfing the object. Wheeljack brought it up close to his optics, turning it over and around.

                “Interesting. Where did you find it?”

                “It was attached to the back of Red’s processor. At first I thought it was some sort of identification device in case he was stolen or lost, but it seemed much too sophisticated for that.”

                “Oh, very much so,” Wheeljack commented. “I’m intrigued. This is technology I’ve never seen before.”

                “Do you think you can crack it?” Ratchet asked. He leaned up against the work bench for support, listing tiredly.

                “Of course. Go recharge for a bit,” ‘Jack said waving a hand in the air. “There’s a small cot set up in the back. I know you’re probably going to want to check on your patient, but set an alarm for an hour and hopefully I’ll have an answer for you by then.”

                Ratchet nodded, already moving. Wheeljack’s suggestion sounded like a great one. Red was in a forced medical stasis that would end shortly within the next hour. The vet’s sensors were attuned to the medical alerts surrounding Red’s berth, so if anything changed, it would prompt Ratchet out of recharge. Comforted that his friend was working on the problem, Ratchet trudged to the cot and crawled atop it, almost immediately shutting down into a restorative recharge.

\---

                An hour came much too soon. Ratchet silenced his alarm with a grumble and then stared up at the ceiling for several moments. He checked on the readings from Red’s medical scanners; everything was stable. The numbers were consistent with a patient coming out of stasis without complications. The medic internally sighed in relief. He had done a lot of work on the little red glitch, and he was glad it all seemed to be paying off. Ratchet heaved himself to his feet and trudged back out into Wheeljack’s workspace.

                Wheeljack caught sight of him, and his head popped up with a smile. “Heya! Feel better?”

                “A little,” Ratchet replied, still feeling a little fuzzy in the back of his processor.

                “Well, this will wake you up a little,” Wheeljack said, handing over the device he had been working on. “It’s an inhibitor of some sort. Once it activates, it syncs up with the patient’s processor waves and prevents certain behaviors. They’re trying out something very similar with high grade energon addicts. This one has been tweaked a little, and I’m not sure what it was inhibiting in Red. My best guess is aggressive behavior. When he’s moonlighting in the gladiator ring it gets turned off, but when he’s at tournament, it’s on? I don’t know.”

                “Huh,” Ratchet said succinctly. “So it wasn’t causing any damage?”

                The science student shook his head. “Not directly. But like I said, I don’t know exactly what it was inhibiting.”

                “Hmmm,” Ratchet said, flipping the device over and over in his hand. “I wonder…”

                All of a sudden, medical alarms began blaring in Ratchet’s audios. Ratchet’s optics widened as he read the scan results and swore. “I got to go. He’s waking up, much too soon! Thanks, ‘Jack!”

                Ratchet placed the inhibitor in subspace and bolted from the room. He spat curses at himself as he ran down the hallway and out the nearest door, pelting across the courtyard to the medical building. He should have remembered that as a fighter, a warrior, Red’s system would burn the sedation drugs off faster than a normal pet. Ratchet had wanted to be there when Red woke up. Now Red was awake and likely scared to be in strange surroundings. Disorientated, he might lash out at anyone who came by to investigate. Ratchet moved faster.

                “No, no! I got it,” Ratchet called, turning a corner and seeing one of the assistants reach for the handle of Red’s personal recovery room. The mech turned wide optics on Ratchet and then backed up, seeming quite content to let a medic deal with all the crashing going on behind the door. 

                Ratchet darted into the room and then slid into a halt, almost toppling from avoiding an overturned cart. The door swung closed behind him as the medic hopped over the scattered tools and headed for the scuffling sounds on the other side of the medical berth.

                “Hey now,” Ratchet began in an even calm voice. “It’s all right, Red. I’m sure you’re a little out of it still, but nothing’s going to hurt…”

                Ratchet stepped around the corner of the medical bed and froze in shock. A large crimson colored mech lay on the floor, tangled up in medical sensors and wires. At the sound of Ratchet’s voice, his head snapped up, optics dark with confusion and fear.

  
                 “Who the frag are you?” Ratchet demanded, all evidence of calm gone from his voice.


	5. Chapter 5

 

                “What in the Pit are you doing here?”

                “I’m...”

                “Where’s Red?” Ratchet peered over the opposite edge of the berth, even though he had just come from that side. The rest of the room yielded no hiding spots big enough for his missing patient.

                “Wh…”  The mech began, but Ratchet interrupted him again.

                “The dog! What did you do with the dog! I swear to Primus if you’ve hurt him…” Ratchet threatened, grabbing the nearest rotary saw and hefting it.

                “I… no…”

                “TopNotch sent you, didn’t he?” Ratchet snarled.

                The mech shook his head wildly, but Ratchet didn’t really acknowledge it. “That aft! I paid everything that he asked for. Red’s mine now, and TopNotch is not getting him back!” Ratchet thundered, missing the surprised and happy look that crossed the mech’s faceplates.

                Ratchet looked back down on the mech after a pleasing mental image of TopNoth slowly being dismantled. He realized that the intruder still hadn’t moved. “Get up from there! You’re damaging expensive equipment, you fragger!”

                The mech looked down at his lower half, a little sheepish. “I can’t really get my legs to work.”

                “Oh, you can’t, can you? I thought TopNotch would be able to send someone in full working order at least to kidnap my…” Ratchet’s head tilted to the side as he finally saw the protoform gray right leg, the welding scars at the hip joint extending around the mech’s lower back.

                 Ratchet’s spark skipped a beat as he took in the heavy, protective armor, the handsome lines of the mech’s face. “Oh, my Primus,” he whispered.

                 The mech managed a small, twisted smile. “Uh. Surprise?” he offered.

                 Ratchet sank to his knees, his hands reaching out to cradle that face in his palms. “Red?”

                 The mech leaned into the touch, optics fluttering. “I’ve wondered what it would feel like to have you touch me in this form,” Red murmured.

                 Ratchet suddenly yanked his hands back, sputtering. “I… you… I rubbed your belly!” he exclaimed, faceplates heating.

                 Red smiled, a sweet, hopeful thing. “You reminded me of before. When people weren’t afraid of us.”

                 “Us…” Ratchet murmured. “Us! Come on, up, up!”

                 Ratchet stood and began yanking on Red’s shoulders. With the medic’s support, he was able to haul himself back up onto the berth. Ratchet began slapping the medical sensors back onto Red, albeit in different locations than the vet was used to. At the same time, he sent an urgent communications to Wheeljack, asking him to meet Ratchet at the recovery room.

                 “Is there something wrong? And why can’t I use my legs?” Red asked, picking up on Ratchet’s urgency.

                 “You still have a local pain block in place. The effects of the medical stasis are lingering as well.”

                 “Ok,” Red said slowly. “And what’s wrong?” He looked around the room. “Where’s Sunny? Is he in another room?”

                  Ratchet froze. “Is Sunny your brother?”

                  Red’s faceplates creased in concern. “Sunstreaker, yes. Where is he?”

                  Busying himself with the tangled sensor net, Ratchet didn’t look up. “He’s not here.”

                 “I can see that. Where is he?” Red’s hand reached out and encircled Ratchet’s wrist, grip light.  Ratchet raised his head, unable to hide the sorrow on his faceplates.

                 “I left him there. I didn’t know!” Ratchet exclaimed, seeing Red’s horrified look. “I had enough money for you, and that was it! I swear I was coming back for him, though.”

                  Red nodded grimly. “I know. I know that. But we need to get him. He’s not going to do well when he wakes up without me there,” Red said earnestly.

                  “So you _are_ twins?”

                  “Spark-split. Part of the reason we were sold to ‘Notch,” Red confirmed.

                  Ratchet stilled again. “Sold?” he asked, voice cold with fury, tension thrumming through his frame.

                  Red blinked his optics a few times at the sudden change in the medic. Before he could reply, the door burst open, and Wheeljack practically flew into the room. Red startled, an instinctive low growl emerging from his vocalizer.

                  Wheeljack slid to a halt seeing the mech on the medical berth, Ratchet’s restraining hand on the other’s arm. “Uh. What’s going on, Ratch?”

                  “Are you still friends with that Enforcer?” Ratchet asked.

\--

                When Sunstreaker woke, he felt cold, sluggish. He didn’t start up his optics or shift or do anything else that would indicate he was awake. He used his sensors instead, listening, smelling. After a short moment, he determined that he was alone and likely in one of the isolation rooms. Feeling along the bond, he instantly felt relieved that Sideswipe was alive. His brother felt far away, however, and didn’t respond to any inquiring pulses.

                Sunstreaker finally powered up his optics, their dim light illuminating the familiar isolation room closest to their cage. He gathered his feet underneath him and pushed himself upright, feeling the lingering aftereffects of a heavy sedation. He scented again, a faintly familiar smell catching his attention. The medic had been here.

                Gazing around, he sat back down on his haunches, staring at the door. Sideswipe was no longer in pain, even if he wasn’t able to respond. Hopefully that indicated that he was in stasis, being repaired. Seeing no other alternative, Sunstreaker slowly lowered himself to his belly and settled in to wait.

\--

                “Thanks so much for coming, Prowl. I know you were probably enjoying your break,” Wheeljack chattered, holding open the door for the new mech. The door-winged form turned sideways to enter and then paused, eying his surroundings.

                “This is the enforcer?” Ratchet asked, standing, giving the black and white mech a onceover.

                “This is Prowl. Prowl, this is my friend and roommate, Ratchet,” Wheeljack said, introducing them to each other. Prowl nodded at the medic and eyed the mech on the medical berth.

                “This is Red. Er… Sideswipe,” Ratchet said, gesturing for the enforcer to come forward. “Sorry, gotta get used to that,” he said to Sideswipe.

                The mech shrugged and then waved at Prowl. “Hey! Nice to meet you. I’d stand, but I’m a little broken,” he said, indicating his lower half.

                Prowl studied the welding scars. “Would it not have been more logical to go to a hospital instead of a veterinary clinic?”

                Ratchet and Sideswipe exchanged looks. “Yeah, that’s why you’re here,” Ratchet said, indicating for Sideswipe to go ahead.

                “My brother and I have been stuck in our dog forms for… well, I’m not really even sure anymore.  We were forced to fight in TopNotch’s gladiatorial rings,” Sideswipe said.

                Prowl straightened, his doorwings arching a little. “TopNotch. He’s one of the most prominent dog fighters in this city. He’s been suspected of underground rings for years, but we’ve never managed to find one. You have a beast form?” he asked, now eying Sideswipe with interest.

                “I’m a triple changer, actually.”

                Ratchet’s head whipped around, and he stared at his patient. “A split spark twin _and_ a triple changer?” he asked in disbelief.

                Sideswipe shrugged. “Yeah. We were special orders. Well, not the twin part, but the dog part. If I remember correctly, our carrier really liked dogs. But her spark was weak, and she offlined shortly after we emerged. I think we were too much for our creator to take care of. So he… he sold us.” Sideswipe said without any inflection, but Ratchet could see the pain hidden deep in the other mech’s optics. Not sure how Sideswipe would react to comforting gestures with others present, the vet merely shuffled closer.

                “You were sold to TopNotch directly?”

                “Yeah,” Sideswipe said nodding. “We didn’t fight at first because we were too young, but as soon as we were able, he put us in the ring.”

                Ratchet had to turn away at this point, gripping the edge of the instrument tray with denting pressure. They had just been sparklings when sold and probably barely younglings when forced to fight. The medic wanted to hurt something. Badly.

                “How did you become involved, Ratchet?” Prowl asked.

                Ratchet couldn’t force himself to face Sideswipe until his emotions were more under control, so he spoke to the wall. “I was on my community rotation; got called in to address one of Yellow’s injuries. They caught my interest because I suspected that they were twins. When I went off rotation, I asked some of my classmates to keep an eye on them.” Ratchet turned finally, shaking his head. “They called me two days ago; Red had been hurt badly enough for TopNotch to offline him. I offered to buy Red. TopNotch accepted. After I repaired the injuries I performed a complete physical and found a chip attached to the back of Red’s processor.”

                Removing it from subspace, Ratchet handed it over to the enforcer. “I asked Wheeljack to take a look. He figured out that it was an inhibitor of some kind. It was only when Red woke up from stasis that I realized what it inhibited.”

                Prowl examined the device with sharp optics before nodding. “I would like to hold on to this as evidence,” the enforcer said. Ratchet nodded, and Prowl placed it into his own subspace before turning back to Sideswipe.

                “You have a brother? A twin?”

                Sideswipe nodded. “Yeah. He’s still there. He’s…” Sideswipe’s brow plates furrowed. “I can feel that he’s worried and confused.  He’s pretty calm, so he must know that I’m awake and not hurt. But he’s gonna get antsy real soon,” Sideswipe shifted a little. “We’ve never been this far apart.  And TopNotch would only let us sparkmerge every now and then so we’re really off sync.”

                Several instruments crashed to the floor, and the whole room looked at Ratchet. He shook in little tremors, hands clenching and unclenching into fists. “Did he know the damage it could cause? Not letting sparksplit twins merge?” he said through gritted denta.

                Sideswipe looked away. “It was a way to keep us complacent.”

                It was Ratchet’s turn to growl, a feral, furious sound. “I’m going to kill him. Take him apart piece by wretched piece!”

                Wheeljack reached out and patted Ratchet’s shoulder soothingly. “It’s ok, Ratch. We’ll get him.”

                “Indeed,” Prowl said, eyeing the medic as if wondering if he would have to restrain Ratchet. “There will be no need for violence. Sideswipe’s testimony plus the addition of the evidence should be more than enough of a case.”

                “Then can we go get Sunny?” Sideswipe asked eagerly.

                “You’re not going anywhere,” Ratchet said, spearing Sideswipe with a sharp look.

                “None of you are,” Prowl said. “I have already communicated with my superior. He shall meet me at the Arena downtown, and we will arrest TopNotch. Once he has been secured, I will call for you, Ratchet. I see no problem with releasing Sunstreaker into your care.”

                “I’ll go with you now. I promise I’ll stay away from TopNotch,” Ratchet said, holding up a hand at Prowl’s look. “But Sunstreaker may not even recognize _me_. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt trying to locate him.”

                Prowl considered it and then nodded. “Very well. I will leave Sunstreaker’s retrieval to you. If you are ready, we can leave now.”

                Ratchet nodded, turning to Sideswipe. “We’ll find him,” the vet reassured Sideswipe.

                “I’m going to keep trying to reach Sunny. Try and let him know you’re coming.” Sideswipe said, reaching out and grabbing hold of Ratchet’s hand. Ratchet patted Sideswipe’s wrist soothingly.

                “We’ll be back as soon as we can. Wheeljack’s gonna watch over you. You should be fine, but you need to _stay put_. That back strut is still not strong enough for you to do much of anything yet.”

                “I’ll keep him occupied,” Wheeljack said, coming to stand by Ratchet’s side.

                Sideswipe eyed the science student, his optics flashing to Ratchet and then back. “Have you known Ratchet long?”

                “Oh, Primus. Try and stay out of trouble you two, all right?” Ratchet called over his shoulder, following Prowl out of the door.

\--

                Things were happening. Sunstreaker felt the tension in the air as mechs rushed back and forth outside in the hallway. He continued to lie there patiently until the familiar tread of TopNotch’s footsteps stopped in front of the door, and Sunstreaker stiffened, his lip plates rising.

                “Bring him out!” Top Notch commanded. Sunstreaker tensed, feet drawing up underneath him in a crouch. As soon as the door opened a crack, Sunstreaker rushed it, bowling the mech behind the door over with a loud crash.

                Top Notch was ready for him, as always, a spitting energy rod striking out at his head. But Sunstreaker had been patient long enough, and his brother was missing. He darted up under the swing, teeth sinking into TopNotch’s wrist. The mech yelled, dropping the rod. As it rolled to the side, electricity arcing, TopNotch kicked out a heavy foot that impacted with the side of Sunstreaker’s head.

                “The collar! You idiot, use the collar!” TopNotch screamed at his assistant as Sunstreaker shook his head, the blow ringing his processor for a moment.

                “I’m trying! It’s not working!” The assistant yelled, voice high with panic.

                Both TopNotch and Sunstreaker’s heads turned to watch as the assistant punched at the shock collar’s remote buttons frantically. Almost as one, the two turned and looked at each other, TopNotch’s faceplates registering dread, Sunstreaker’s optics shining with anticipation.

                “Do some…!” TopNotch shrieked as Sunstreaker pounced, his weight toppling the mech over. TopNotch gurgled, his struggles stilling abruptly as Sunstreaker’s jaw opened wide, and his teeth sunk into the cables on either side of TopNotch’s neck.

                Sunstreaker’s optics bored into TopNotch’s. _Where’s Sideswipe?_

Drops of energon welled up and slid down TopNotch’s throat. “Don’t… please… he’s…!”

                “SUNSTREAKER!” a voice shouted, and the dog rolled his optics to see a black and white doorwinged mech striding down the hallway, a pulse rifle aimed steadily at Sunstreaker’s head. The dog growled, the vibrations making TopNotch whimper in fear.

                “Sunny!” Another voice called, and the medic that Sideswipe was enamored with rushed up behind the black and white mech’s back.

                “I told you to stay outside,” the mech in front hissed.

                The medic ignored him. “Sunny! I’ve got Sideswipe back at my clinic, and he’s fine. We removed the chip that was keeping him locked as a dog.”

                Sunstreaker growled again, his jaws tightening. TopNotch let out a thin wail, hands scrabbling uselessly against Sunstreaker’s neck.

                “Sunstreaker,” Ratchet called. “It’s not worth it. Prowl’s an enforcer. They’re here to arrest TopNotch. I’d love to hurt him for the things he’s done to you and your brother, but this will be better for all of us. Let him up.”

                All Sunstreaker wanted to do was rip out TopNotch’s throat, wanted to taste the warm swell of energon that the fragger had taught him to enjoy. It would be poetic justice. But Sideswipe was suddenly there in the back of his head, using emotions and images to calm him and squash the urge to _hurt_.

                Abruptly, Sunstreaker released his victim, snarling into TopNotch’s face one last time. Then he lithely leapt over TopNotch’s head and sedately padded down the hall. Prowl’s gun couldn’t decide if it wanted to stay trained on the dangerous beast or the owner of said beast who was now sitting up, staring at the energon on his digits with shock. Prowl and Sunstreaker eyed each other warily as the dog came close.

                “Are you all right, sir?” Prowl asked, finally stepping aside for Sunstreaker to pass by and sit near Ratchet’s feet. The medic peered down at Sunstreaker, but wisely kept his hands to himself.

                “No, I’m not all right! I demand that animal be put down!” TopNotch said, voice shaky as he stood with the help of his assistant.

                “If he were merely an animal, I might agree with you. However, we both know that is not the case,” Prowl returned calmly.

                TopNotch’s gaze darted over to the medic. “You again! How did you even find that chip? I expected that mutt to be offlined by now.”

                Ratchet glared back. “I graduated top of my class. It wasn’t hard,” he added, voice dripping with disdain.

                TopNotch’s faceplates twisted with rage, and he ran for the medic, hands outstretched. Sunstreaker leapt to his feet, his brother now urging him to _protect_ , but before Sunstreaker could do anything, TopNotch collapsed to the ground with a smoking hole in his shoulder. Ratchet and Sunstreaker both turned to gape at Prowl as the enforcer placed his rifle back into subspace with perfect composure. He stood over TopNotch and looked down on him with blank faceplates.

                “I’ve never liked the practice of dog fighting,” he commented absently, unlocking his stasis cuffs while TopNotch rolled on the floor, clutching his wound. “TopNotch, I will now be placing you under arrest for the charges of illegal dog fighting and slavery.”

                Sunstreaker watched with respect as the enforcer wrangled TopNotch into the handcuffs. Ratchet took a step closer as Prowl read TopNotch his rights. “You all right?”

                The yellow dog gave Ratchet a baleful stare.

                “Of course you are,” Ratchet sighed. “Let’s go. Prowl has released you into my custody. We’ll be going back to the clinic so I can remove that chip. Then Prowl will be stopping by for your statements.”

                With one last final look at TopNotch, Sunstreaker turned and started walking away, Ratchet barely a step behind. Sunstreaker wanted to feel annoyed that the medic was walking so close, but all he could manage was a strange warmth. In the back of his mind, Sideswipe radiated smugness.

 


	6. Chapter 6

                As soon as they walked into the building, Wheeljack commed Ratchet.

                **Hey, Ratch, Sideswipe wanted me to relay something to you.**

 **Go ahead,** Ratchet said cautiously.

                **Sunstreaker wants to have the chip removed now. Doesn’t want to see Sideswipe just yet.**

Ratchet looked down at the dog padding by his side. Sunstreaker looked up at his scrutiny and growled a little.

                **And why can’t Sunstreaker tell me this himself?**

 **I think… they didn’t have anyone to teach them things, Ratch,** Wheeljack said, a note of sorrow in his tone. **They’ve only ever communicated over their bond and aloud. I’m showing Sideswipe how to work the private communications frequencies now. Sunstreaker’s is inhibited of course.**

As if on cue, a ping alerted Ratchet to an incoming communications. **HI, RATCHET!**

Ratchet stopped mid stride and groaned, one hand rubbing at an audial even though the overly loud voice was going straight through his processor.  Ratchet linked up to Sideswipe, giving Sunstreaker a wry look.

                **Too loud, Red. Take it down a few notches, all right?**

 **Oh, sorry,** Sideswipe replied, not sounding all that apologetic. **How long will it take to remove Sunny’s chip?**

                **Not too long. But I’ll be giving him a full physical at the same time and addressing any problems.**

 **All right. Well guess I’ll see you both soon!** Sideswipe said gaily and then shut down communications without saying goodbye.

                “Going to have to teach you both proper communications manners,” Ratchet commented. Sunstreaker gave the medic a haughty look as if to say he already had manners, he just didn’t have the capacity to use them.

                “Well, let’s get going. The sooner we get you back to normal, the sooner we can… get back to normal.” As Ratchet lead Sunstreaker through the building, he wondered to himself just what normal would be now.

 --

                Ratchet was sitting at a desk entering his notes into Sunstreaker’s and Sideswipe’s patient records when the alarms on Sunstreaker’s monitoring unit went off. Barely a minute later, Ratchet heard the distinct sounds of a crash, and he rushed out into the operating bay.

                Sunstreaker’s berth was empty. There was a lot of cursing and clanging before a yellow hand gripped the side of the bed and pulled. Scowling faceplates emerged over the edge followed by shoulders and then a chassis as Sunstreaker pulled himself upright.

                “It’ll take a moment; your center of gravity is completely different now,” Ratchet offered, hovering at the end of the bed.

                A blistering glare was shot his way. “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Sunstreaker answered. Ratchet noted absently that Sunstreaker’s voice was almost nothing like Sideswipe’s, a deep, gravely bass instead of the red twin’s lighter baritone. There were some small differences in frame, although overall they were very similar. Ratchet found his optics tracing the strong lines of Sunstreaker’s jaw and yanked his gaze away.

                “I need a washrack,” Sunstreaker announced, teetering a little as he held his hands out in front of him with an expression of disgust.

                “Don’t you want to go see Sideswipe first?” Ratchet asked, browplates furrowed. Sunstreaker was a little dusty, but he wasn’t _that_ dirty.

                Sunstreaker waved away the question. “He’s in the building. Safe. And I’m filthy.”

                “You’re really not…”

                Another glare halted Ratchet mid sentence, and he huffed a little. “Well, if you’re so dead set on getting clean before spark merging with your own twin, be my guest. There’s a washrack in the back of the room,” Ratchet said, pointing.

                Still wobbling every other step, Sunstreaker walked over to the wash rack and slammed the door behind him. Shortly after, the water started up. Figuring the fighter was more than capable of finding his own way down the hall, Ratchet left the bay to walk to Sideswipe’s room.

                Wheeljack had left to go to class, so when Ratchet entered, Sideswipe was alone, staring pensively out the nearest window. He turned quickly when the door opened, a smile blooming across his features when he saw who it was.

                “All done?”

                Ratchet nodded. “He’s in the washracks.”

                Sideswipe’s grin widened further. “I know. I can feel his contentment. Any problems?”

                “A few tubes and gears needed to be replaced, but overall, mostly all I saw were old injuries.”

                “Yeah,” Sideswipe said nodding, “we got beat up a lot those first few years.”

                Frowning unhappily, Ratchet checked the monitor still set up to Sideswipe’s vitals. Everything was normal, and based off his scan, the welding scars in Sideswipe’s back and hip were solidifying nicely.

                “Don’t.”

                Ratchet looked up to see Sideswipe gazing at him earnestly. “Don’t what?”

                “It wasn’t your fault. We’re safe now. You saved us.”

                Ratchet shook his head. “You make me sound like a hero out of the story pads. I’m no hero.”

                “You’re our hero,” Sideswipe said, expression set. “We belong to you now.”

                 Ratchet took a step backwards in alarm. “Sideswipe, you belong to yourselves. No mech should be owned by another. That was TopNotch’s problem.”

                Before Sideswipe could reply, the door swung open, and Sunstreaker strode in. Ratchet gaped just a bit because apparently the mech had been dirtier than Ratchet had originally thought. Sunstreaker’s armor shone, glistening under the medical lights. Once again, Ratchet had to force his gaze away from admiring the strong lines of Sunstreaker’s arms and legs.

                “Feel better, Sunshine?” Sideswipe asked, grinning.

                “Don’t call me that,” Sunstreaker grumbled, giving the medic an undecipherable look. He passed by Ratchet and stood at Sideswipe’s bedside, looking his twin over. “You need a wash,” he said, critically passing a finger over Sideswipe’s shoulder.

                 At the touch, Sideswipe shivered. His optics locked on his brother’s, turning light. The monitor began beeping in time with Sideswipe’s rapidly escalating sparkbeat. 

                “Maybe later, huh?” Sideswipe asked, his voice suddenly deeper. He gazed up at his brother, faceplaces set in adoration. Ratchet had a feeling that if Sideswipe still had a tail, he’d be wagging it.

                 “Later, Sides. Much later. You can go,” Sunstreaker said, glaring over his shoulder at the medic.

                Optics narrowing at the haughty tone, Ratchet watched Sunstreaker push at his brother until there was enough room for Sunstreaker to climb up next to Sideswipe. They settled together, Sideswipe sighing happily and Sunstreaker producing an odd little hurt sound as he buried his head in Sideswipe’s neck.

                “Don’t break the equipment,” Ratchet warned as arms and legs tightened and their frames pressed close against one another. “And for Primus’ sake, don’t break each other.”

                Sunstreaker’s chassis was already spreading, a warm blue glow illuminating the crack in Sideswipe’s armor. “We’ll do our best,” Sideswipe murmured, smiling beatifically at the medic before snuggling further into Sunstreaker’s embrace. **Thank you, Ratchet** , Sideswipe sent, barely larger than a whisper.

                Ratchet placed an override code on the monitors and left, locking the door behind him. It was a few steps before he realized that he was smiling too.

 


End file.
